


If I’m Dead (You Owe Me)

by kaleidomusings



Category: DCU
Genre: Alfred and Lucius are our champions, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-23 12:39:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14332650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidomusings/pseuds/kaleidomusings
Summary: Clark never intended on becoming an orphaned boy's tutor.He never intended on falling in love with the boy's adoptive father either, but life is funny like that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alternatively titled "The Kinda Sorta Sound of Music AU", except there's considerably less singing and Dick is an only child. 
> 
> This story doesn't follow any specific canon. It's kind of a mix between the comics, the animated series, and the recent movies but you don't need detailed knowledge about any of them. I hope you enjoy and please leave comments/kudos letting me know what you think!
> 
> The title comes from The Chainsmokers, “You Owe Me”.

Clark doesn’t actually intend on jumping. 

But one night he’s leaning over the edge of the bridge he crosses everyday, staring down at the dark waters below -his glasses hanging on the very tip of his nose- and thinks how easy it’d be to just end it all when a voice from the shadows draws him back. 

“Drop something?” The deep growl behind the words sound more wry than curious, like he doesn’t expect a coherent or even sane response and is going to take Clark down at the first sign of trouble. 

Which is fair, because a man hanging off the side of a bridge in the middle of the night and the freezing cold isn’t exactly an indicator of good judgement. Then again this is coming from somebody who dresses up as a giant bat and fights mob bosses and psychotic clowns in his spare time, and Clark -feeling reckless- tells him so. 

The infamous Batman doesn’t react, his expression as stoic as his mask, but at least he’s not disemboweling Clark for having a smart mouth so he offers a smile, sheepish and abashed. 

“My phone,” he says and holds his hands up in a universal gesture of _Oh no, whatever will I do?_

The vigilante can obviously tell he’s lying, but doesn’t bother calling him out on it. “That’s bad luck,” he says dryly and turns away like their conversation is already over. “Go home and sleep off whatever you have in your system.”

Clark gapes as he turns to disappear in a puff of smoke or turn into a bat or whatever the hell he does, and thinks he’d laugh if he wasn’t suddenly so pissed off. As easy as it would be to fling himself off the side of the bridge, he actually prefers being alive. He has a messed up life, but it’s his and he’s going to live it because that’s what his parents would want for him. “Screw you. I’m not drunk and I wasn’t going to kill myself, you asshole. I’m _grieving_.” 

Batman stills, despite not turning back around, but he’s not pummeling Clark for calling him names either so he can’t complain. For just a moment they’re simply two men standing on a bridge in the middle of the night, who understand what it’s like to lose the people they care about the most. 

It makes Clark hunch his shoulders, ashamed by his initial reaction. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly and looks down at his worn sneakers. “You’re right. I should go home and sleep it off.”

He sneaks a glance but Batman has already disappeared, leaving Clark completely and utterly alone. Just like he wanted. 

\--

By the time Clark gets home to his tiny shoebox of an apartment, he tosses and turns for a couple hours before dragging himself out of bed and goes to school for his meeting with Professor Fox. 

Professor Lucius Fox, who still treats Clark like a human being and not the tragic creature his other professors and classmates believe he is now. When Clark explains he’s going to quit school, Lucius gently asks if there’s anything he can do to make him reconsider. And that means more to him than the pitying looks, the awkward silences, and the empty sympathetic words he's received from everyone else. It just further reminds Clark that Lucius is a man Clark respects and admires both as a teacher and a friend. 

Which is why he’s sincere when he tells the older man ruefully, “Thank you sir, but I can’t stay.”

“You only have a couple months left until graduation,” Lucius points out, ever calm and reasonable. “And all you need are the credits from my class to get your degree. So if you do a favor for me, I can pull some strings and make sure you graduate.”

Clark grins despite himself. “That sounds an awful lot like an abuse of power, professor.”

“What use is power if it’s not abused to help those who need it?” Lucius doesn’t smile back, but his eyes are dancing as he jots something down on a piece of paper and hands it to him. 

He only takes it because his mother raised him with manners, and finds all that’s written down is an address and phone number. “What’s this?”

“An old friend needs a tutor for his newly adopted son and I recommended you to him.”

“I’m not very good with children,” Clark says. He was never good with children even when he was a child, growing up the way he had. 

But Lucius simply looks at him with his dark amused eyes and says, “You’re at the top of your class and everyone speaks very highly of you. I can’t think of anyone more qualified to do this.”

Clark knows when he’s being played, but he supposes in the grand scheme of things it can’t be that bad and reluctantly agrees. 

—

Scratch that. it’s not bad, it’s _worse_. 

Clark stares up at the enormous house he’ll be staying for the next couple months, which is less like a house and more like a museum with how cold and otherworldly it looks. It’s the complete opposite of his childhood home, worn and rundown as it was, but bright and cheerful. There was so much love in every loose shingle and creaky floorboard, and it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest when he had to sell the farm. This place looks like it belongs in a horror movie, and he really should have known better when he gave the address to the taxi driver and the man looked at him like he was crazy. 

He’s about to get right back in the car and tell the driver to step on it, when the front doors open and an older man in a black suit comes out to greet him. 

“Mr. Kent, I presume,” the man says in a sophisticated British accent, which Clark recognizes as the voice he spoke with on the phone. While he's distracted, the taxi drives off before he can escape with it, leaving him completely stranded in middle of the nowhere. “I’m delighted to meet you in person sir.”

“Hello Mr. Pennyworth,” Clark replies because his parents raised him right, instead of saying that this is all a big mistake and he shouldn’t be here. 

“Please, call me Alfred.” Before he can stop him, the older man picks up Clark’s bags and goes inside, leaving him no choice but to follow. 

If Clark thought he was out of place standing in front of the house, he feels it even more so when the doors shut and trap him inside. He glances down at his flannel shirt, his ratty pair of jeans, the beat up bags that contains everything he still owns and wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole. 

“Excuse me Alfred—“

“Yes Mr. Kent?”

Clark holds up his hand to stop him, because being addressed like that is just making a really weird situation even weirder and he’s struggling to process all of it. “I’m sorry but I think there was a misunderstanding. I’m nowhere near qualified to—to—“

He pauses, trying to figure out how to say “Babysit a spoiled rich kid,” in a way that won’t compel his mother to rise up from the dead just so she can smack him over the head for being disrespectful. 

Alfred tilts his head the slightest bit to one side and Clark can already tell he’s silently laughing at him. “I had hoped to get you settled before discussing the particulars, but we can go over it now.” He carefully sets Clark’s bags down and folds his arms behind his back. “Young Master Dick will be attending Gotham Academy a few months from now and needs a tutor to prepare him for the new school year. I believe you are also attending Gotham State University?”

His parents cried when he got the acceptance letter for a full ride scholarship. It’s the only reason he chose Gotham over Metropolis in the first place. “Yes but—“

The older man interrupts him, but in the most polite way possible. It’s _weird_. “Professor Fox spoke very highly of you, so I have no doubt that Master Dick will flourish under your tutelage.”

Clark opens his mouth to protest, the words right there at the tip of his tongue, when a quiet sound catches his attention. He looks up and finds a small boy watching from the top of the staircase. He’s hiding behind the banister and even though his face is partially hidden from view, all at once Clark understands what it means to fall in love at first sight. 

He’s never cared much for children. He doesn’t hate them, but he doesn’t go out of his way to interact with them either. There was always the very real possibility that he could hurt them when he still had his powers, and now he’s at a total loss on how to deal with them. But seeing this boy with his messy dark hair and sad eyes, he realizes why his parents would adopt a baby they knew absolutely nothing about. 

“Hey. I’m Clark,” he calls up with a little wave and feels his chest tighten when the boy shyly smiles back. 

“Master Dick, please come down and say hello properly,” Alfred says, his voice gentle but firmly admonishing, and puts a steading hand on the boy’s shoulder when he comes down the stairs to join them. 

Dick’s voice is small and quiet. “Hi.”

Clark kneels down until they’re about the same height, something his parents used to do with he was little and they seemed to tower over him. He doesn’t know anything about guessing ages, but Dick looks to be about eight or nine, yet seems so much older in his countenance and pain behind his dark eyes. He still feels reluctant about taking this job and is terrified that he’ll somehow ruin this sad beautiful boy, but he holds out his hand to shake anyway. 

“What do you say, Dick? How would you like me to be your tutor?”

Dick stares at his extended hand for a long moment before reaching out to shake it. “Okay.”

The expression on Alfred’s face doesn’t change, but when Clark glances up at him he can see the smug satisfaction for what it is. It should irritate him, but he really can’t say that he minds.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark bonds with Dick, serenades Alfred, and meets Bruce Wayne. Who is an absolute douchebag and totally not charming. At all.

After a couple awkward starts, a week passes and Clark manages to work out a schedule for him and Dick. He still has no idea what he’s doing half the time, but Dick is a smart boy and quickly picks up everything he’s taught. He’s still a little withdrawn and shy, but he seems to like Clark well enough and follows him around the house like an adorable baby duckling trails after its mother. 

As for Clark, he’s grown rather fond of the boy and makes sure that Dick has fun throughout the day. Not just playing outside for a little sun and exercise after his studies, but taking him to the library and different playgrounds around the city to meet kids his age. They still watch movies and play video games at the house, but it’s so big and and empty and far away from civilization, Clark wants to make sure that he’s able to play with kids his age. 

When he tries to explain this to Alfred, he’s shocked when he finds his weekly allowance -which is already a lot more than he deserves considering how easy his job is and how much he enjoys doing it, on top of the free food and housing- has become a considerable sum. The first time he opened the envelope and saw how much money was inside, he immediately asked if there was some kind of mistake. 

“It’s no mistake, Mr. Kent,” Alfred said and then, more softly, “I haven’t seen Master Dick smile as much as he has since you arrived. It’s the least I can do to show my gratitude.”

But Clark still feels guilty about it and makes a point of only using the money on the days Alfred actually lets him into the kitchen, or on things that make Dick happy, like books or games. Convincing Alfred to let him wash the dishes or even do his own laundry is a battle all on its own, but they’ve reached a compromise where they do it together, and he’s even allowed to fold his own underwear. 

The only real challenge are the nightmares. Clark has seen some terrible things, but nothing is worse than jolting awake during the night to Dick screaming, the awful moment he lost his parents playing over and over in his dreams. Despite Dick having never told him exactly what horrible memories replay in his mind, Clark can fill in the blanks from what Alfred has told about how Dick came to be under his care. When it gets particularly bad, Clark will lay in bed with him, holding the sobbing boy in his arms until he falls back asleep or soothing him with the lullabies his mother used to sing to him. Sometimes he even shares stories of a simpler, happier time when another young boy grew up in a small farm in Kansas with parents who loved him. 

Although it seems to help at least a little bit, Dick is always embarrassed the following morning, so Clark is careful not to mention it. He’s not his father by any means, but he does know what it’s like to be an orphan and hopes that someday Dick will feel comfortable enough to confide in him. Maybe that’s a little hypocritical of him, because spending time with the boy keeps Clark too busy to focus on his own pain and -although he knows that’s going to backfire on him later on- he wants it to last for as long as possible. 

And then he meets Bruce Wayne. 

That morning he and Alfred are in the kitchen making breakfast -Clark flipping pancakes and the older man cuts up strawberries- while they wait for Dick to come downstairs. The playlist on his phone switches to a ridiculously catchy song and Clark sings along, leaning into the older man’s space and grinning when the infallible Alfred cracks the faintest smile. Crooning to the spatula in his hand like a microphone, Clark swings his hips and waves his arms in a strange mockery of a dance. It reminds him of the times when he helped Ma in the kitchen and they’d sing at the top of their lungs to whatever song came on to the radio, dancing like loons, while Pa watched them from the safety of the doorway, shaking his head at their antics but too amused to be convincing. 

Clark twirls around and freezes, choking halfway through the lyrics because leaning against the kitchen doorway and watching him make a fool of himself is the man. The most beautiful man he’s ever seen, dressed so stylishly that he looks like he stepped right out of a fashion magazine and lifts an elegant brow when Clark continues gawking at him like a complete idiot. 

“Don’t stop on my account,” the man says, his dark blue eyes glittering with amusement. “I’m just appreciating the view.”

Clark flushes and lets Alfred take the spatula from his hand to rescue the pancakes from burning. He instead turns off the music and plays with the hem of his apron, the same blue gingham Ma used to wear and he’s convinced Alfred bought for him just to be funny, labelling as the country bumpkin he is. 

“Bruce!” Dick launches himself at the man with a joyous shout, slamming into him so hard he rocks back against the doorframe with a soft grunt. “You’re back!”

The man -Bruce- laughs, wrapping his arms around the boy and sweeping him up in a big hug before carefully setting him back down on his feet. “I am. Have you been good for Alfred?”

Dick nods eagerly, still clinging to Bruce’s waist like an overzealous limpet. “Yeah! He and Clark are catching me up on all my homework.”

“Is that right?” Bruce’s gaze meets Clark’s, studying him so intently it makes him nervous. 

He knows how he must look with his messy curls and glasses, wearing a threadbare t-shirt and sweats, sharply contrasting Bruce’s expensive suit and impeccable hair. Although Clark usually isn’t intimidated by other men, he feels inadequate and outclassed in comparison. It also doesn’t help that he comes to the realization that Alfred isn’t Dick’s guardian like he originally thought. It’s _Bruce Wayne_. 

—

Perhaps this should be common knowledge for most people and anyone who bothers to look it up on the internet, but in his defense Clark’s never cared for gossip about billionaire playboys. He also hasn’t bothered to keep up with the news since his parents died, so while he has heard the rumors that Bruce Wayne adopted a son, he had no idea it’d be Dick or that Wayne is as incorrigible (or as handsome) as everyone says he is. All throughout breakfast he makes little remarks subtle enough Dick doesn’t pick up on them, but causes Clark to turn bright red. He even slides a foot against his ankle beneath the table, smirking when Clark jerks away and tucks his legs under his chair as far back as he can. 

It’s obvious that Wayne is trying to unsettle him enough to make him quit. Clark can’t figure out why, but he has a stubborn streak of his own and refuses to let a little inappropriate behavior scare him off. He’s already emotionally invested in this job and he genuinely cares about Dick and Alfred, so Wayne is just going to have to deal with it. 

He even tells him so to his face, after cornering Wayne on the way to his study. He asked Alfred to keep Dick distracted during the confrontation, not wanting him to see them arguing. It’s not his fault that his adoptive father is insufferable and already has Clark itching for a fight. Which is why, when the billionaire scrutinizes him like a bug under a magnifying glass, he already knows he’s going to hate the words that come out of his mouth. 

“How much do you want?”

He stares, wondering if he somehow misheard. “What?”

Wayne repeats himself, very patiently, “I’ll pay you whatever you want so long as you leave and never come back.”

Clark’s never wanted to punch anyone as much as he does right now. Maybe if he actually did something to warrant this kind of treatment or if Dick didn’t want him around anymore, he’d move out without fuss, but being bribed to do it just pisses him off. “Don’t you _dare_ insult me.”

Wayne gives him a pitying look. “Come on, Kent. You really expect me to believe a young guy like you wants to be stuck babysitting instead of going out and having fun? What kind of life is that?”

Clark didn’t think Wayne could disgust him more than he already has, but clearly he was wrong. Dick deserves a better father than this vain, hollow excuse of a man. His voice is cold when he says, “It’s a lot more fulfilling than the parties you waste your time at, Mr. Wayne.”

For a first time, real emotion flashes across Wayne’s face. “That’s where you think I’ve been for the past week? On some kind of bender?”

“I wouldn’t know sir,” Clark replies, sickly sweet. He turns to leave, already done with this conversation, when a surprisingly gentle hand touches his shoulder to stop him. He glances up to meet Wayne’s gaze, whose eyes seem to hold some dark mystery in their depths. 

“My son means the world to me, Mr. Kent, but he’s been hurt before. How do I know I can trust you?”

“So this was all a test?” Wayne doesn’t respond and Clark immediately reconsiders the punch this man deserves. He sighs and shifts away from the warmth of the other man and the enticing smell of his cologne. Why are the attractive ones always batshit crazy? “Believe it or not, I care about Dick and would never hurt him if I can help it. The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt, you asshole.”

Wayne’s mouth quirks in a ghost of a smile. “So what do you propose we do?”

 _Spoken like a true businessman_ , Clark thinks, rolling his eyes. “Spend the day with us. You can see what Dick and I do together and if there’s anything you disapprove of, you can tell me.”

“And if there is?”

Clark shrugs. “Then I’ll leave just like you wanted. Deal?”

He holds out his hand to shake, but Wayne ignores it completely as he looms over him -suddenly huge and intimidating- and swipes a thumb over the bump of his chin. The touch is light and fleeting, Wayne already moving away before Clark can react. It should repulse him, or at the very least be alarming, but all he can do is stare at this strange, mercurial man and the amused glint in his eye. 

“It’s a date then.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As first dates go, this is probably the worst.

Wayne may be a jerk, but at least Dick is ecstatic to have him tag along for the day. 

The boy fidgets throughout his lessons, beaming whenever Wayne praises him on his work or offers surprisingly insightful and even intelligent points to help Dick understand the information better. And he never gets frustrated or angry at Dick when he makes a mistake either, gently correcting him in a soft but clear voice at all times. 

After they spend a couple hours studying, Clark and Alfred pack some sandwiches and juice boxes for a picnic. Usually Alfred drives them to the park and will even join them sometimes, but Wayne insists on driving them himself and tells Alfred to take the afternoon off instead. 

“Don’t get into too much trouble while we’re gone,” he says to the older man with a wink.

“I shall endeavor not to sir,” Alfred replies in his typical deadpan, belied by the smile he tries to hide and Wayne laughs. It’s a deep and pleasant laugh, making Wayne look even more boyishly handsome than he already does. Not that Clark notices or anything. Really. 

He also doesn’t care that Wayne ditched the fancy suit for a blue button up, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a pair of black trousers. And Clark definitely doesn’t smooth down the front of his cream colored sweater in a self conscious way or think about how faded his jeans are. 

“I call shotgun!” Dick -wearing his favorite Batman t-shirt and blue shorts- shouts as he runs past Alfred, who is packing the picnic basket in the trunk, and is already reaching for the passenger doors. 

“Adults up front only,” Clark and Wayne say at the same time, making them glance at each other in surprise. 

Dick pouts but obediently clambers into the backseat, leaving Wayne to open the passenger door with a flourish and a cheeky grin. 

“After you, Kent.”

Clark frowns, tempted to make a rude remark but knowing better than to do it in front of Dick. “Thank you, Mr. Wayne,” he grits out instead as he slides into the seat. 

“Call me Bruce,” he says and Clark ignores it, because no way in hell is he going to do that. 

—

During the drive Dick chatters about the places he’s been to and the people he’s met since Clark became his tutor. He even mentions the time he ran into Commissioner Gordon and his daughter Barbara while getting ice cream last weekend. 

“She said her dad works with Batman and they stop bad guys together,” Dick says, practically bouncing in his seat with excitement. 

Wayne smiles at the boy through the rearview mirror. “Batman’s just an urban legend, Dick.”

“No! Barbara said he’s real!”

“He is real,” Clark says and isn’t sure what to make of the sudden tightness in Wayne’s shoulders. “I met him.”

Dick grabs the back of his seat. “ _Really_?”

Clark tugs at the sleeves of his sweater, suddenly wishing he hadn’t said anything. “Yeah. I ran into him on my way home once.”

Not that his apartment was ever a home or that he felt anything when he gave it up, but explaining what he was really doing on that bridge isn’t an appropriate conversation topic. 

As if sensing his mood, Wayne suddenly turns onto the next exit and Clark frowns out the window, watching unfamiliar sights passing them by. “Where are we going?”

Wayne’s eyes flicker over to him for a brief moment before facing the road again and says simply, “The aquarium.”

Dick starts cheering even as Clark opens his mouth to protest, but Wayne leans over and places a warm hand over his knee. 

“Come on, Kent. Live a little.”

Much to his relief, there aren’t as many people as he feared and paying for the three of them before Wayne can is extremely satisfying, easing some of his apprehension. They decide to eat their lunch in front of the kelp forest exhibit, watching the long stalks swaying with the current and the different kind of fish swimming through its yellow and green leaves. 

It should be relaxing, but the reminder of his meeting with Batman has him more on edge than he thought. As if from a great distance away, he can hear Wayne and Dick discussing whether to see the sea otters or the jellyfish first. A part of him thinks he should contribute to the conversation, but it’s all he can do just to keep his breathing steady before catching sight of a young boy in a Superman shirt with his parents. The boy is clinging to their hands and saying something that has them gazing down at him in a fond way that knocks the air out of his lungs like a physical blow. 

Clark clutches his chest and his own parents are screaming, begging him to save them, but he can’t. He can’t and the Kryptonite is spreading through his body, shutting down his organs one by one and he can’t _breathe_ —

“—Kent! Clark!”

He gasps hard and stares up at Wayne, who is standing over him with a strong grip on his shoulders. His ears are buzzing and his heart is pounding in his ears. He’s sweaty and shaky and his eyelashes are wet with tears.

“Clark?” The other man sounds worried and he wonders how many times Wayne called his name. “Are you all right? Hey?”

“Yes,” he croaks and tries again. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” Dick says, unmistakable concern on his young face and Clark hates that he’s responsible for such an expression. 

Wiping his eyes, Clark forces a smile and lightly touches Wayne’s wrist, strangely comforted by the steady beat of his pulse. He takes a deep shuddering breath and then lets his hand fall. “I’m okay. Really.”

Wayne doesn’t look convinced. “Do you want to leave?”

Dick’s face falls, but Clark quickly shakes his head. “No. Please. Let’s stay.”

Wayne frowns even as he lets go and helps him stand, his gaze sharp and assessing. “Fine,” he says at last, “But we’re leaving if it happens again.”

Clark looks over his shoulder and notices some of the people around them have stopped to stare, then looks away quickly. Of course Wayne doesn’t want the extra attention and nods, letting Dick take his hand and biting his lip when the other man presses his palm against the small of his back. He feels guilty about his breakdown and puts in the effort to be extra cheerful as they check out the other exhibits. 

Wayne isn’t fooled judging by the way he watches Clark out of the corner of his eye and Dick is obviously still worried, but the boy is so eager about the marine life around them that he can lock away those painful memories at least for a little while and smiles in earnest. At the very least it keeps his mind off other things when he’s paying more attention to sea otters playing and jellyfish that light up in bright neon colors. They even reach into the touch pool to run their fingers across the stingrays that circle around lazily, which is unlike anything he’s felt before. Slightly rubbery, but soft like velvet.

Dick tries convincing Wayne to join them, but the man gently refuses with an apologetic smile. 

“Alfred will kill me if I get saltwater all over this shirt.”

Clark rolls his eyes and is tempted to splash Wayne on principle, who raises his eyebrow at him like he can read the intention right on his face. 

They move on and find the penguins marching through the aquarium, flanked on both sides by their trainers. The aquatic birds waddle in a crooked line, peering curiously at the people crowing around to get a better look. Clark even sneaks a picture on his phone when one pauses to glance at Dick, boy and penguin caught in a stare off that Alfred himself would melt at the sight of.

He makes a mental note to show it to Alfred later when Wayne bumps his shoulder against his. Clark turns to find him leaning over and looking at the screen with a soft, fond smile. It’s probably the most sincere expression he’s ever seen on his face. 

“Send it to me?”

Unable to resist a doting father, Clark does as he asks and a moment later Wayne’s phone pings. 

“I’m going to have Alfred get it printed,” he says gleefully as he stares at the picture like it’s worth more than his entire fortune and starts tapping away at the screen. It’s unusually sweet. 

Dick suddenly grabs their arms and drags them away. “Come on! There’s still stuff we have to see.”

By the time they leave to the aquarium -after seeing the other animals, like a giant sea turtle and a bright red octopus- it’s already late in the evening, so they have hamburgers and milkshakes for dinner then head home. Dick immediately falls asleep in the car and without the boy to act as a buffer, an awkward silence hangs heavy over them. 

Wayne seems to notice the tension too, because he turns on the radio and, much to Clark’s surprise, rather than playing some kind of outrageous music, a newscaster’s voice comes on instead. 

“—of increased crime all around the world and everyone is wondering: where is Superman?”

Clark’s breath stutters and Wayne worriedly glances in his direction. 

“Nearly eighteen months after the Man of Steel’s disappearance, there has been much speculation about what happened to him. Many believe he’s abandoned the planet he swore to protect—”

He squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face away. “Turn it off. Please.”

Wayne quickly switches it off and Clark makes a pained, grateful sound. “Don’t care much for big old Blue do you?”

Clark laughs bitterly. “You could say that.”

“I don’t care for him either,” Wayne says lightly, but with a dark undertone that makes the hairs on the back of Clark’s neck stand up. 

He wonders what Wayne would do if he found out the man tutoring his son is the very same person he despises, but then dismisses it. Everything that made him Superman is gone and he’s just Clark Kent now. When Wayne doesn't need his services anymore, he'll fade into obscurity, completely and utterly ordinary. 


End file.
